


The Broken Oath

by Our_Residential_Sociopath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cambridge, Elizabeth Holmes - Freeform, Multiple Deaths, Oxford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Our_Residential_Sociopath/pseuds/Our_Residential_Sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is given a case in Oxford where he meets an old friend. Now that friend is on the case with him and he thinks that she's more than just some help...she's a victim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It was a dark and stormy night in the city of London. No one was on the streets, no one was walking down the sidewalks; the city was completely silent.

Things weren't doing much better at the well-known flat on Baker Street either. Sherlock, Molly, John, Lestrad, and Mrs. Hudson were all in morning. Since the death of E that afternoon the flat had been nothing but sorrow and tears.

Sherlock was sitting in his usual chair trying not to let anyone see him cry by leaning forward, covering his face with his bushy hair. "I can't believe it. I knew her, and I found her again; and now…"

Molly made her way over to where the detective was sitting. She knelt down and put her hand over his. "I'm so sorry Sherlock. If we had known sooner then maybe we could have done more."

Lestrad, sitting on the sofa thinking about what has just occurred, leans forward and looks directly at the Sherlock. "I can promise you that there's no way this guy'll get away now."

Sherlock snapped his head up and looked over at Lestrad. "You know that will be arranged."

John, who was comforting Mrs. Hudson who was silently sobbing by the door, looked up at his partner. "I second that"

Sherlock turned his gaze toward John. "It's settled then. We find the man that broke the oath."


	2. Four Years Earlier

A young girl by the name of Elizabeth Williams started to stir in her bed as sunlight started to seep through the shire blinds over her window. She opened her eyes to see the light engulfing her small bedroom at Cambridge. She sighed as she threw her olive green comforter and white blanket off of her before sitting up. The date was November 2, 2009 and her first term as a pre-law student at Cambridge was quickly coming to a close. She scratched her head before letting her fingers get tied up in her bottle blond pixie cut, all while staring at the pile of books and notes on the floor next to her bed for her constitutional history class.

She groaned as she stood up and walked to her wardrobe. She swung it open and plucked out the first thing she could see: a pair of skin- tight, navy jeans with a pumpkin colored jumped and a pair of knee-high brown boots. Before she knew it she was dressed, swinging her black shoulder bag over her shoulder, and hurrying out the door. She didn't want to be late for her exam so breakfast, in her opinion, wasn't an option today and she felt confident in this decision as she walked into a lecture hall already filled with people.

About an hour later…

Elizabeth emerged from the lecture hall; her emerald green eyes looking towards the sky and arms stretching outward. The exam was difficult, but she managed to be one of the first students to turn in the finished exam. Next it was off to the library to study for her organic chemistry lecture. She put her sight in front of her as she began the long walk to the Chemistry Library; a lovely 14 minutes. She inhaled deeply as she took her first few steps along the path and was eventually lost in her thoughts. She thought about a lot of things on her walks from college to college or, in this case, college to library.

But on this particular walk she thought of only one thing, the one thing she has been thinking of most often now; where she came from. Ever since she was small she has been in the care of Suzan Brown, the Development Events Assistant at King's College. Suzan was her foster parent and has been for a little over 16 years now. The two were friends and got along nicely, but no matter how hard Elizabeth tried she could not get any information about her real parents out of her; Suzan would always just go silent if she asked, which led to Elizabeth's thinking. She would often think about her parents; her real parents. She would often think that her mother was clever and her father was a hunter with a number of dogs at his side to aid him. Sometimes she would even hope there were siblings that knew she was out there and were longing to find her.

"If only," Elizabeth thought as she finally reached the entrance to the library. She closed her eyes and let out a small, comforting sigh as she opened the door and took her first step into the building; but little did she know, there was someone on the other side of the door, to whom she collided with and toppled backwards.

She opened her eyes and looked up to see a man, not much taller than she was, staring back at her. He had lily white skin, much like her own, and looked down at her with ocean blue eyes as he reached out his hand to help her up. She gladly took it and lifted herself up to get a better look at him. He had short, curly, black hair and the highest cheek bones she had ever seen. She blushed a little at her thought. "Thank you and apologies are also in order."

Sherlock smirked at her, as he watched as she brushed off her jumper. That's when his eyes darted from her to the black shoulder bag that lie between them and the contents that have been spilled out. He automatically crouched down and started picking up her scattered notes.

She followed his example a bit frazzled, not wanting him to see all of her notes. "It's quite alright, you don't have to…"

But she was too late. Sherlock had picked up the notebook clearly labeled 'organic chemistry' and was now staring at it. He smirked once again before setting his eyesight back on her. "Studying?"

Elizabeth looked back at him and blinked. "That's it?" She took her notebook from him and picked her bag up off the ground before standing up, not breaking her gaze from his. "You're not going to tease me?"

He stood up while looking at her quite puzzled. "Why would I do that? There's nothing wrong with being advanced."

Elizabeth blinked again, but this time with a smile on her face. "Most people don't usually say that."

"Well, I'm not most people." Sherlock handed back the book and opened the door to the library for her. "The name's Sherlock by the way."

"Elizabeth," she smiled at him as she said it and then walked through the door. She was quite surprised when she heard it shut behind her and turned around to see Sherlock walking away through the glass door. "Pity," she thought. "He looks like an upper classmen, and I could really use some help with this stuff." She shrugged the thought away as she took a seat at the nearest table she could find. She opened her notebook and found a slip of paper tucked away inside. She plucked it out and, as she read it, the expression of wonder grew on her face.

I BET YOUR FAMILY'S LOOKING FOR YOU-SH


	3. Incident on St Cross

Three Years and Nine Month Later…

Elizabeth was now walking down a much different path. She had finished her pre law studies a number of terms early and was now at Oxford Law, well on her way to becoming the lawyer she so desperately wants to be. As she walked, her now shoulder length, sandy blond hair was swaying as she walked and she clenched the thick book tightly against her vintage gray t-shirt as a number of police cars rushed by.

Elizabeth looked ahead to see the two police cars turn down her street and that's when she stopped in her tracks. "Now why would they be headed down St Cross? Nothing ever happens there." She began to walk again, keeping a steady pace; removing the apparent police activity on her street out of her mind. "It's probably just a guest speaker for that prison class." 

She continued with her earlier train of thought: her parents. Even though it has been almost four years since that student at Cambridge had left her that strange note; she still had no idea what he meant by it, and she didn't like that. She had thought maybe he had been an orphan too and had lived with her at one point, but then why wouldn't she remember him. He could have just had a lucky guess, but what are the chances of him being right?

Elizabeth came to a halt again and her train of thought did the same. The sound of sirens behind her were getting closer to her. She turned her head around just to see an ambulance speeding down the street past her. She turned her head once again and saw the sight she really hoped she wasn't going to see. The ambulance had turned down her street and people were now flooding out of the law facility to follow the sound of the sirens. Once again she took off, now running, towards the street that she now called her home. "This cannot be good," she thought as she turned the corner to see the crowd gathering at the building next to hers, which made her run even faster. Some of her best friends lived in that building and she could only hope they were alright.

She pushed her way through the crowed only to see her one friend, Anna, with her landlady talking to a tall detective with his back to the crowed. Elizabeth tried to flag down one of the police officers, but it was no use. So she did something drastic and slipped under the yellow police tape without being detected. She began to run over to her friend, but she was stopped by an older man about her height. "I'm sorry Miss, but no pedestrians aloud."

Elizabeth looked at the man with anger in her eyes and an evil little smirk on her face. Her eyes then went up and down the gentlemen standing in front of her; studying him. "Bags under the eyes. Dark circles as well. Little wrinkles, but gray hair; high stress level job. Very high and in the city. Smoker….Bingo!" 

Lestrad looked at the girl in front of him while she studied his appearance. "I said…"

"Look, Inspector." She was now looking right at him. "Obviously you aren't from around her so I would suggest letting me through."

Lestrad stared at the young girl in front of him dumbfounded. "Not another one," was all that came to mind as a voice from behind him rang out.

"Liz!"

Elizabeth looked over to see Anna waving for her to come over and join her. She also saw the landlady, a post-grad student studying who knows what, was staring at her with the look of fear on her face. Elizabeth smiled at them, but then she turned her attention to the tall gentlemen that stood next to them, and her smile disappeared. He had a head of black curls and his skin was almost as pale as her's. His stunning blue eyes popped as they peered at her from behind the collar of his long, black coat. "He looks so familiar, but he couldn't be." Elizabeth walked away from the inspector and towards the tall man standing by her friends; eyes never breaking contact from him. She walked right past her friends, not even noticing the change to their faces as she did. She came to a halt just a few feet from the man. "I'd know those cheekbones anywhere." Her expression changed back into a small grin. "Sherlock; nice to see you again."

Sherlock bowed his head at Elizabeth quickly and grinned back at her. "Long time no see." He looked back at the string of buildings in front of him. "You live here, don't you?"

Elizabeth turned towards the houses, but peered over at him. "But you don't. So what brings you here?"

Before he could answer, Anna and the landlady, Erin, ran up to Elizabeth. "Liz," Anna said as she stopped next to Elizabeth. "Curt was killed!"

"Yeah, the guy broke in a little while ago." Erin looked ecstatic as she spoke to Liz. "They brought in some coppers from London. Says this might happen again!" She started to cry with that last statement.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to Sherlock. "So that's what brought you."

Sherlock smirked. "A good old fashion murder. Just up my alley."


	4. Answers

By the time Sherlock was finishing up talking with Anna and Erin it was getting dark and Elizabeth was sitting on the stairs outside of her building with a copy of Les Miserable. She was hoping Sherlock would finish up sooner than later so they could possible catch up on thing, but sadly it was getting pretty late and there was no doubt he'd have to return to London by the end of the day; but Elizabeth stay sitting out on the stoop, watching as the police broke down the boundaries they had earlier put up.

It wasn't until closer to 9 o'clock the three had finished up talking. Elizabeth had almost finished up her book when she heard footsteps approaching her and then come to an abrupt stop at her feet.

"Do you mind me staying here for the night?"

The question shocked her a little. She wasn't expecting to hear the question coming out of Sherlock Holmes' mouth; she was expecting it from her current friends, not from this blast from the past who was now standing in front of her. Elizabeth picked up her bookmarker from her lap and placed it in the book before calmly snapping it shut. She looked up at him with a sly smile on her face. "Your car left, didn't it?"

"Lestrad never does as I asks." Sherlock rolled his eyes before offering Elizabeth a hand and he didn't continue on until she took it. "I would ask you for a lift back to London, but seeing as you're a student…"

Elizabeth cut him off once she was on her feet again and had her hand back from him. She held the book in her hand as she pulled her set of keys out of her pocket with the other. "I have an extra room in my flat." She made her way to the door and giggled once she got there. "It'll be fun! Just like old times."

Sherlock nervously chuckled as he followed her into the building and straight back to her flat. "Elizabeth, I was rather high that night; please let me live that down."

Elizabeth chuckled as she opened the door. "Why would I?" She chuckled once again as she turned on the lights in her kitchen and made her way to her room. "Sitting rooms the other way. Make yourself at home."

Elizabeth made her way into her bedroom and shut the door behind here. She sighed as she stripped off her jacket and hung it on the hook she had placed on the back of her door before heading to her wardrobe. She pulled out an orange shirt with the Cambridge seal on it and a pair of navy blue fleece trousers. As she dressed, she thought about the note Sherlock had left her all those years ago. Sure they were great friends, but she'd never asked him about the note; but tonight she was counting on getting the answers she wanted. All dressed and ready to face the detective, she opened her door and made her way to the sitting room where she found the detective sitting of the small, gray, leather sofa without a jacket and reading her copy of Through the Looking Glass she had left in the kitchen. She folded her arms and stared at him. "Nice to see you're comfortable."

Sherlock peered over at her from behind the book held up to his face. "Nice to see you are as well." He closed the book and put it down next to him. "Why don't you take a seat," he said while gesturing to the second leather sofa across the table from him.

"I was planning to." Elizabeth walked the short distance over to the sofa and plopped down; folding her legs on the seat before she looked over at her old friend. "So…I got a question for you."

Sherlock rested his elbow on the sofa's arm rest and he placed his hand on the side of his cheek. "And that would be."

"I know this is a little out of the blue but…" Elizabeth stopped twiddling her thumbs and lifted her head so that she could fix her eyes on Sherlock. "How is it you knew I was adopted when we first met?" She lend forward in anticipation. "And how did you know I was looking for my family."

Sherlock closed his eyes and chuckled a bit. "I was wondering when you'd ask that." He opened his eyes and sat up. "It was kind of obvious actually."

"Well not to me it isn't." Elizabeth blinked at him.

Sherlock chuckled again. "Let's just say, you didn't exactly look like an Elizabeth when I first met you."

"Good point." Elizabeth giggled a little. "My foster mother actually hated the name. She called me 'Liz' all the time."

"Well that does explain the pixie cut."

"And the bottled blond hair." She laughed a little before her slight smile curved downward. "Oh God, I really shouldn't be laughing."

Sherlock looked at his friend. "You knew the victim?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I did. He's actually studying criminology law like me, but Curt's an undergrad. I was assigned to be his student mentor so to speak."

Sherlock leaned forward, staring directly at Elizabeth. "Can you tell me anymore?"

"Of course." Elizabeth unfolded her legs and stood up. She walked around to the desk on the far side of the room behind the sofa she was sitting on and opened the top, center drawer. "I keep a file for all my mentees. Anna's another of mine." She pulled out a thin manila folder, closed the drawer, and made her way back to her seat on the sofa.

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow again as he watched Elizabeth sit down again and fold her legs. "Then why didn't this Curt boy live here?"

"No idea. The guy upstairs studies art believe it or not; and the girl down in the cellar studies median." Elizabeth opened the file. "So tell me, what would you like to know?"

"Everything." Sherlock sat back in his seat. "Those two couldn't tell me anything; 'in shock' Lestrad says."

"In that case, do you want the folder? I have no need for it anymore."

Sherlock nodded. "That would help. Another thing, since you knew him would you be willing to come back to London with me?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Why not; it's the weekend, might as well do something."

"Good." Sherlock stood up. "We leave in the morning. I suggest you rest up."

Elizabeth nodded as she watched him make his way to the spare room and close the door.


	5. To London

Sherlock was sitting in chair at Baker Street reading the paper. He sighed as he heard footsteps approach his door. John… Sherlock lowered his paper to look at the door and sure enough, a moment later did his best friend open the door.

"Morning." John said as he made his way over to sit down across from Sherlock. He sat down, resting his hands on his knees. "Any cases today?"

Sherlock crumpled his paper up and tossed it on the floor as he stood up. He walked over to his desk and began searching for the file given to him last night. "In fact, there is." He smiled as he picked up the folder labeled 'Curt.' "Murder, last night in Oxford."

"Oxford?" John stood up. "Did you lose a bet?"

Sherlock smile disappeared and he lowered his arms, still holding onto the file. He shrugged, "Lestrad thought it was interesting so…"

"So…" John folded his arms and glared at his friend.

Sherlock went and sat down in his chair again, eyes staying on John. "I humored him." He opened the file and started studying it. "What are you so worried about. Molly's coming over later to help analyze the samples; technically you're free to go."

John sighed and sat down once again. "It's just, Oxford? It's so far away, and you don't have any connections…"

He was cut off by a cough coming from directly behind him. Both the men turned to see Elizabeth, wearing the same orange shirt and navy trousers from the night before. "Well there is me." She made her way across the room to lie on the small sofa. "Oh, by the way, thanks for high jacking my car again." She peered over at Sherlock and caught his glare as she said it.

Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "I didn't this time." He threw the keys just above her head, his eyes not leaving the open file he had returned to.

John watched as she raised her arms and caught the keys with ease. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Elizabeth lowered her arm and turned to face John. "The name's Elizabeth Williams." She went back to staring at the ceiling. "I'm an old friend."

John turned his attention to Sherlock. "I thought you didn't have friends mate."

Without even taking his attention off the open file in his hand he peered over at Elizabeth. "She's not my friend; more like an annoying relative."

"I'm honored." Elizabeth through the sarcastic comment over to Sherlock. She smiled as she heard him chuckle under his breath.

John's chuckle, however, was more noticeable. "So, Elizabeth, what brings you into this?"

"Well," Elizabeth sat up-right and faced John before she continued. "I'm in the law program and Curt, the victim, was one of my mentees." She crossed her legs as she continued. "Brilliant kid, but I couldn't do much for him."

Sherlock snapped the file shut and looked over at Elizabeth. "What do you mean there was nothing you can do?"

Elizabeth turned her attention to Sherlock with a puzzling look on her face. "Well whenever I tried to meet with him he always seemed so frantic." She looked down onto her lap. "I mean, I called him just yesterday and all I heard from his end was a couple heavy breath before he hung up."

"Could have overdosed?" John exchanged glances with Sherlock as he asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, from what I was told Curt was clean."

Sherlock looked from Elizabeth to John before making speaking his mind. "I'm thinking he was poisoned."

Elizabeth sighed. "Well, have fun with that theory." She stood up from the sofa and started to make her way back to the kitchen door.

John turned to watch her walk away. "And where are you going?"

"To take a shower. Unlike the walking dead known as Sherlock Holmes, I actually sleep." Elizabeth giggled after she threw the comment over her shoulder. "And I hope you grabbed me some clothes."

Sherlock grinned as she walked away. "Taken care of Ms. Williams." He heard a door slam and started chuckling. "She's such a ray of sunshine in the morning, don't you think?"

John stood up. "You're right about that; and since you don't need me today I best be off. Mary will appreciate the help I bet."

Sherlock waved slightly. "See you 'round then." He watched as his friend walked out the door and then took a seat in his chair; putting the file down on the small table next to him. An hour or so until Molly shows up and Elizabeth will probably be getting ready for THAT long as well; females. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. Perfect amount of time to think…


	6. Descussion

Molly Hooper stepped into the common room of 221 Baker Street where she had found Mrs. Hudson sweeping the floor. She smiled as she watched the elderly women work. "Good day."

Mrs. Hudson looked up at Molly and smiled back at her. "Nice to see you dear." Her eyes fell back on what she had been doing. "He upstairs working on the case with his friend. He told me you were coming to help."

Molly was at the stairs when she heard. She stopped and looked at Mrs. Hudson. "Mrs. Hudson, who's up there with him? He told me John would be home all day with Mary and the baby."

Mrs. Hudson sighed from exhaustion and looked onto Molly once more. "I'm not exactly sure, dear. He came in this morning with her just before I started cleaning. The only thing I could get out of him was she was for a case."

Molly gulped and became a little red in the face. "So, Janine all over again?"

Mrs. Hudson giggled a bit before smiling at her. "Not like that; I doubt anyway. She looked young, like high school age. I'm thinking she's just part of the case is all."

Molly smiled. "You're right; after all, that's about the age range of the victim." She started climbing the stairs and as she got closer to the door of 221 B she started to hear voices inside. One of whom was Sherlock's, but the other, she wasn't sure. She halted at the door and took a deep breath before entering.

As she entered she came to a standstill at the door as two sets of eyes fell onto her. One of them being Sherlock's stunning set of greenish blues. The other was a shimmering set of emerald green eyes surrounded by a face of lily white skin that looked almost identical to Sherlock's, but softer and not as stern. Her hair was a silky looking sandy blond color that came down to her shoulders and was pulled back from her face by a white headband. She had on a pair of gray legging and an oversized pink jumper with white stag profiles printed all over it.

Sherlock smiled as he watched Molly enter. "Ah, Molly," he stood up and started walking over to her. "I want you to meet an old friend of mine." He took her hand and pulled her into the room and closer to the very slim girl sitting on the arm of Sherlock's chair. The girl stood up as Molly approached. "Molly I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Williams of Oxford."

Elizabeth smiled. "So nice to meet you Dr. Hooper. Sherlock has told me so much about you." She throw a look at Sherlock, but he waved it off.

Molly quickly looked from Sherlock to Elizabeth and smiled. "Nice to meet you Elizabeth." She extended her hand out towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth accepted and shook her hand. "Please, call me Liz." She let go of her hand and walked back to Sherlock's desk. She took the desk chair and placed it as the point in a triangle with the other two chairs.

As Elizabeth took her seat, Molly and Sherlock did the same. Molly leaned forward in her chair. "So, Liz, how do you know Sherlock?"

Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance with Sherlock before turning her attention back on Molly. "Well I was a freshmen at uni and Sherlock here was finishing up his graduates degree." She sate upright as she stared at the puzzling look on Molly's face.

"You look so young for a student at university. What year are you?"

Elizabeth blinked at her before smiling. "Yes, well, I'm kind of a prodigy as they say. I'm currently a first term grad student at Oxford Law."

"Impressive." Molly smiled at Sherlock. "You sure know how to pick your friends."

Sherlock grinned and peered over at Elizabeth. "Indeed I do." He turned his attention back to Molly. "So, the samples?"

Molly's eyesight fell onto her lap and her smile turned into a frown. "Actually, I couldn't get them out; supervisor was in today. But I do have some test results."

Sherlock sighed and opened his mouth to, but closed it again when he felt a small, warm hand on his. He opened his eyes to see the hand belonged to Elizabeth.

"That's fine, Dr. Hooper." Elizabeth took her hand off Sherlock's and sat up straight once again. "Do you happen to know the content of his stomach?"

Molly looked up at Elizabeth and smiled. "Actually, I did find something strange in his digestive track." She reached into her coat pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. Quickly she unfolded the piece and smoothed it before reading. "There were traces of muscarine in the lining of his stomach." She looked up at the two and caught both their glares. "So, poison?"

Sherlock leaned forward in his seat. "That proves it, but that mushroom doesn't grow anywhere near here."

"It's Oxford, Sherlock." Elizabeth almost snapped at him as she said it. "Student globally go there." She stood up and walked over to the window and just look out of it; she crossed her arms. "He was from Sweden after all."

Sherlock looked over at Elizabeth. "Could he have taken it before he left home?"

"Impossible!" Molly chimed in. "If he were to do that he wouldn't have been allowed in the country."

Elizabeth turned back to face the two. "Someone would have had to smuggle it in the country; and I doubt it would be an Oxford student."

"And who do you suppose that would be?" Sherlock was still looking at Elizabeth, who was now standing right next to his chair.

"Don't look at me, you're the detective here." Elizabeth went back to sit on her chair as the three of them continued to speak.

Molly peered over at Elizabeth. "I think he was meaning to ask if you knew anyone at Oxford that would have done it."

Elizabeth's eyes went from Molly to Sherlock before going back to staring at the fireplace in front of her. "I've only been there a couple of weeks; I really can't help you there either."

Sherlock sighed heavily. "So we start this thing from scratch then? Perfect."


	7. I'm Next

In the Perspective of Elizabeth Williams

As I sit here patiently waiting for Molly, the DI, Sherlock, and John to arrive, I can't help but to ponder the events of the last three weeks. First, September ended about three week ago and since Sherlock has been eager for the cold to come; easier to preserve the evidence. Second, the case we've all been working on together (against Sherlock's will) has dried up. That is until Anna and Erin were killed last week. So Sherlock said we should all meet and talk about the case.

Strange, isn't it? From what I know, Sherlock doesn't do anything social like this, or at all for that matter. He might be being nice; I mean, my best friend and her landlord did just died. Or he could know something that I don't, which is much more likely.

'Speaking of,' I thought as I heard the knock at the door. I opened my eyes, unfolded my legs, and stood up from my bed. I walked over to the door in my kitchen and opened it, seeing Sherlock and all the others smiling at me from the sitting room. With a heavy sigh, I just stared at Sherlock. "What aren't you telling me?"

In Third Person Perspective

"Whatever are you speaking of." Sherlock grinned and walked past Elizabeth, followed by John, Molly, and Lestrad who all looked as if they were hiding something.

I crossed my arms as they circled around Elizabeth. "Sherlock, I can read; just tell me."

Sherlock threw a glare at his friends before setting his eyes onto the DI. "Well you might as well tell her; it was your theory."

With a heavy sigh, Lestrad turned his sight onto the girl he barely knew. He stared into her eyes and saw a glimmer of fear, as if she knew what he was about to say. "Well…a buddy of mine came here a while back and he says these flats all used to be for the staff."

Elizabeth lowered her arms and the harsh look on her face softened. "So someone from the staff is doing this?" She looked over at Sherlock, who was now sitting in the sitting room looking rather annoyed, for the answer.

Sherlock lowered his hand from his face and peered over at his four friends. "It would appear so."

"And that would mean…" Elizabeth paused as she folded her arms together and began to think. She wandered into the sitting room and plopped down next to Sherlock on the sofa. "…I'm next."

"What makes you say that?" John asked as he sat down next to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth lowered her arms again before looking at John. "Well if the killer's objective is to empty out the buildings of student tenants, the fastest way to do that would be to kill the landlord."

John took his eyes from Elizabeth and peered over at Sherlock, who still looked a little annoyed, before looking over at Lestrad, who was now sitting on the sofa on the other side of the coffee table. "Makes sense, don't you think?"

"Loads." Lestrad lent forward in his chair, his eyes set on Elizabeth while he did so. "Which means, young lady, you're being relocated."

At this, Sherlock perked up. "That won't be necessary Lestrad. I'm positive Miss Williams can take care of herself." He sat upright and peered at Elizabeth next to him. "Aren't you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth glared at Sherlock and hissed through closed teeth, "I know what you're doing Sherlock; don't."

"What exactly is he trying to do," Molly chimed in.

Elizabeth took her eyes off Sherlock and put them onto Molly, who was seated next to Lestrad. "You don't want to know. Let's just say I taught this git about fighting in uni." She turned her head to face him and grinned devilishly. "Isn't that right Will?"

Sherlock brushed off the comment and turned his attention back to Lestrad. "See? She's perfectly fine."

"Still," John added. "It would be best if someone stay with her..." John looked past Elizabeth, at Sherlock. "…and I think you should do it mate."

"Why me?" Sherlock almost spitted the words out of his mouth.

"Because you're the only one of us lacking a formal job," John spitted back at him. "And besides, it was you're idea. Now if you'd all excuse me," he stood up, coat in hand. "I need to be going."

One by one, the four that were left became three, and then finally Sherlock and Elizabeth were alone. It wasn't long before Elizabeth changed into her pink sweats and over-sized white t-shirt. She emerged from her bedroom to see Sherlock sitting in the spot she left him in the sitting room. She walked through the kitchen and into the sitting room, where she sat down next to Sherlock for the second time that night.

In the Perspective of Elizabeth Williams

Sherlock's in his mind palace, again. Why else wouldn't he notice, or ask for something to do even? I pulled my legs up onto the coach, crossed them, and closed my eyes. "Sherlock?"

I felt him stir a little next to me, and I think he was looking at me too because his tone of voice was a little off. A little high pitched? "Yes." He was nervous, I could tell by the cough.

I opened my eyes and peered his way. He's looking; no doubt he remembers. "Why did you have to bring up fighting earlier?"

Sherlock cleared his throat again. Calming himself, no doubt. "I was just trying to save you the trouble of relocating to London. I know you have an exam in the morning and if Lestrad thoughts were at all to become reality, I'd never hear the end of it."

"I would have rather had that than you bringing up the fighting." I closed my eye again and took a deep breath. "Plus you promised to never bring up the fighting the last time; I take it you remember?"

"I told you I was high!"

I giggled. "So you do remember." I opened my eyes, unfolded one of my legs, and turned to his direction. "I'm still never going to let you live that down." I leant over and kissed his nose jokingly before I stood up and started walking back to my room. "Goodnight you fool," I through over my shoulder before disappearing in my room and closing the door.

Something isn't right. I don't recall turning the lights off, and my window wasn't open before. Oh God! I felt someone wrapping their arms around my waist and then a cloth being force over my mouth. Oh Sherlock, please…help…


	8. Scrapebook

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa as he watch Elizabeth so gracefully walk across the length of the flat, nearing her bedroom. She was wearing the same outfit as she was that night; that horribly, dreadful night. It had been his fault, the incident, so he assumed he deserved the torturous conversation and the memory flashback that she had brought to the table. As soon as he heard the door slam behind her, he was reminded it was a mistake, an enjoyable one, but a mistake indeed.

Then Sherlock's mind was snapped out of thought and onto what sounded like a struggle happening behind the now closed door. He stood up and, at a quickened pace, walked to Elizabeth's door and knocked on it faintly. "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

There was no answer. Sherlock waited a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders if defeat. Maybe she hadn't heard him? He was about to go back to his previous thoughts in the sitting room when he heard the shatter of glass from behind the door. Immediately, Sherlock turned and ripped the door open, but only saw an empty room with a shattered window.

Sherlock hurried to the window, hoping to get a glimpse of what had just occurred. As he reached it, he quickly scanned over the outside. To his disappointment, nothing was out of the ordinary; the only suspicious thing was the car pulled up between the two buildings, which was now pulling itself back on the road. He make a note of the car's features and was about to go after it, but it speed away at a rate that dismissed the idea of catching it.

Sherlock sighed deeply. How could he have been so stupid? He crossed the room to the door again and flicked on the switch. The room lite up and Sherlock took a look around in hopes the kidnapper had left something. He noticed the olive green comforter on Elizabeth's bed and he had to restrain himself from remembering that night again. He also noticed the torn Doctor Who posters from behind the door; probably torn during the struggle. Finally, he walked over to her bookshelf and pulled out the only thing that didn't belong.

Curious, Sherlock sat on the edge of her bed and opened the book. The first page had a single sentence on it, which read 'My days at Cambridge.'

"I didn't know you kept scrapbooks," Sherlock said aloud to the room. He turned to the first page while getting his phone from his pocket, but when he saw what was on the page, he had stopped in his tracks. When he saw that page his phone had dropped onto the bed and his now free hand had turned into a fist. He opened his mouth to read the caption under the picture of him and Elizabeth, but he couldn't do it; he just looked over the picture again and again, scanning it into his mind. He remembered that picture; it was snowing, and it was also the last day he had seen her before any of this happened. Finally, in a quivering voice he read, "To the brother I had always wanted, but never had."

Sherlock snapped the book shut and picked up his phone. Surprising himself, after he dialed he had fell backwards onto Elizabeth's bed. He felt himself tapping his figure, impatiently waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Hello?"

Sherlock bolted up as he heard Lestrad's voice. "She's been kidnapped."

"You git! You were supposed to be watching her!"

"I slipped up; I regret that, but a young girl might die tonight if we don't hurry now!"

"Okay, Sherlock; just calm down. Be at my office in an hour."

Sherlock replaced the phone in his pocket after Lestrad had hung up, grabbed the scrapbook along with Elizabeth's keys, and he left.

An hour later, Sherlock found himself almost charging into Lestrad's office; wanting to know where his friend was. When he reached the desk, he set down the set of keys and the scrapbook before stared at the man sitting on the other side. "I have information on the get-away car. All you need to do is run a search for the license plate number."

Lestrad sat up. "What do we do about the guy?"

At that, Sherlock's expression changed and you could see the anger in his eyes. "Leave him to me. Now the number is H59…"

Sherlock trailed as he heard his ringtone go off in his pocket. Annoyed, he reached for his phone only to receive a shock when he saw it was Elizabeth calling. He quickly answered. "Elizabeth! Are you alright?"

"Sherlock." The voice that came through the phone was indeed Elizabeth's, but in a way it didn't sound like her at all; it wasn't as strong or as calm.

This made Sherlock angry. "Where are you?"

"I don't know." She began to cry. "Please save me?"

"Stop crying. It will all be alright; he's not going to do anything to you."

"He…he said he won't. He wants to meet you first."

Sherlock's free hand were in a fist now; he pounded Lestrad's desk. "Where is he!"

"Patients….that what he said."

Between Elizabeth's small sobs he heard loud footsteps in the background. "Elizabeth, everything will be okay; we will find you!"

Everything was silent; the connection had dropped. Sherlock lowered his hands on the desk in front of him and sat down in the chair on the opposite side of Lestrad. "He's keeping her alive. He's going to wait until I find him then take her head straight off."

"Sounds like this guy doesn't want you to win. What is it with this girl anyway?" Lestrad had his elbows on his desk as he asked, wanting to know the answer.

"Old friend." Sherlock passed the scrapbook over to Lestrad and watched as the DI flipped through pages of Elizabeth's college days he himself secretly wished he knew.

After a while, Lestrad looked up from the book. "Mind if I keep this here for now? As evidence."

"As long as it helps us find her. Now do something useful…" Sherlock tossed his phone to Lestrad, who caught it at the last second. "Trace that call. We have a girl to find."


	9. Up All Night

It was late in the evening on November 1st when Molly had found herself hailing a cab to Baker St. She hadn't heard from Sherlock in a week and was beginning to worry about him, so she phoned Lestrad after she had finished her shift at Barts and was solemnly told he was back in London.

'Maybe he brought Elizabeth to London,' Molly thought to herself as she rode in the back of the cab. 'That would make sense, her term is almost over after all and Oxford is just an hour away by train.'

When the cab stopped in front of Baker Street, Molly quickly paid the cabbie and climbed out of the cab. She watched the car drive off and took a deep breath before she turned to the door that lead into 221. Once she had walked up to it, she knocked on the knocker and waited patiently to be let in.

A few moments past before Mrs. Hudson opened the door and smiled at her guest. "Oh Molly, thank heavens you came. Come in, please." She opened the door further for Molly to enter and promptly shut it behind her. "It's awful, it really is."

"What's awful Mrs. Hudson?"

"Sherlock; I haven't seen or heard from him in days! I've called John and even he can't get to him!"

"That's strange, even for Sherlock." Molly took a look up the stairs leading to Sherlock's flat, but there was nothing; no light, no sound, not even a sign of life at all. "Mind if I have a go?"

"NO use; his flat's locked and I'm afraid I don't have a key."

Molly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black case before turning her attention back to Mrs. Hudson. "Lock picking kit Sherlock gave to me." She looked back up the stairs. "Don't worry; I'll be able to talk to him."

Molly started up the stairs to Sherlock's flat as Mrs. Hudson wished her good luck and then disappeared into her home. 'I hope Sherlock's alright,' Molly thought. 'First Greg and now Mrs. Hudson; probably not a good situation then.'

When Molly reached the door to 221 B, she was surprised to see it was open; so she let herself in. Sadly, there was no sign of Sherlock in the sitting room or the kitchen, but Molly did see his bedroom door open and could see someone sleeping in the bed. She let out a little giggle as she put her things down and removed her coat. She went into her bag and pulled out some containers of food leftover from a potluck she had at work earlier that day. As she walked into the oddly tidy kitchen to put the food away in the strangely clean fridge, she did not expect to hear Sherlock emerge from his bedroom.

"Molly? How'd you get in!"

Molly peaked at him from behind the open refrigerator door and wasn't really surprised to see him in a sheet. She stood there silently for a moment as she took in the sight she was seeing, which consisted of dark circles, paler than normal skin, and his mop of usually curly hair all dull and somewhat straight. She gasped a little at the sight. "Everyone's worried Sherlock, and I can see why. Now go change out of that sheet and tell me what's wrong!"

Minutes later, Sherlock, now fully dressed, met Molly in the sitting room waiting for him to sit down and talk to her. He sat down opposite her and yawned. "Thank you for waking me," He said sarcastically. "Hadn't slept in a good week."

"Could have fooled me." Molly shrugged her shoulders. "Is it also safe to assume Elizabeth is still alive?"

"Not sure." Sherlock stood up out of his chair and wandered over to the window. "She was kidnapped about a week ago; and for the past week I've been trying to find out where…"

"With no luck I gather."

"None at all." Sherlock sighed, recalling the events of the past week and where they had led him. "Lestrad ran a search on the car she was taken in and traced a call I received from her on my phone later that night, but both came up empty."

Molly was about to get up from her seat when she noticed a large scarlet red book sitting on the small table in between the two chairs. She sat back down and reached for the book. She set her eyes on Sherlock. "Sherlock, what's this?"

Sherlock turned around to see the scrapbook in Molly's hand. Sherlock grinned and walked over to her. "That's Elizabeth's back from her Cambridge days. Lestrad asked to keep it as evidence, but I swiped it before he took it from me."

Molly turned her attention back onto the book and opened it to the page that had the picture Elizabeth and Sherlock. She read the caption silently before smiling and looking back up at Sherlock. "You two must have been close."

"We were; she just reminded me so much of myself that I got used to having her around." Sherlock sat back down in the chair across Molly and watched as she flipped through the book.

Molly lifted her head from the book. "Did you see any of this?" Her eyes then dropped back down onto the current page she was on. "It's amazing! She was on the lacrosse team, president of the chemistry club, and she was the first girl allowed on the wrestling team."

"Must've happened after I left." Sherlock rested his elbow on the arm of the chair. "The semester before I graduated, when I knew her, she was always so quiet and concentrated on work. She didn't really have any friends, besides me I suppose. The only time she was ever really enthusiastic was the last time I saw her."

Molly was now on the last page of the book and was staring at all the documents that were posted on the page. She put her hand on one very old newspaper clipping that was about Sherlock's incident with Magnacin just last year. "And what was that?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Last time I had seen her, she said she was on the phone with her adoption agency and that she was old enough to be responsible for…"

Once Sherlock felt his phone go off in his pocket he got dead silent. He retrieved the phone and gasped a little when he saw who was calling. He answered as quickly as he could and put the phone to his ear. "Hello! Elizabeth?"

"Sherlock." She sounded calm and panicked all at once, which means her dialect was scripted. "He says to meet him at the end of the city pier in London by 4am or I'll be shot and killed."

"Don't worry, I'll be there." Sherlock hung up the phone looked over at Molly. "We need to be there in two hour, get your coat!"

"Before that," Molly stood up, still looking at the last page and now holding up numerous different newspaper clippings, and walked over to Sherlock. "You should take a look at this." She held the book out for Sherlock to see.

Sherlock looked and immediately saw what she was talking about. "Elizabeth's birth certificate? I don't understand."

"Look at the names Sherlock; her parents' names."

Sherlock took another look and when he saw the names Molly was mentioning his eyes widened. "She's a Holmes."

Molly pulled the book away and closed it. "She's also your sister; and if we don't leave now she'll be dead!"

Sherlock shook his head, not wanting his thoughts to get in the way of saving a life. "You're right." He hurried to the door and grabbed his coat. "Let's go save Elizabeth Holmes."


	10. Prove Yourself

By the time Sherlock and Molly had stepped out of the cab onto the dock looking out onto the river it was 3:55. '5 minutes,' Sherlock thought. '5 minutes for someone to live or 5 minutes until someone dies.' Sherlock dismissed the thought as he started walking, with Molly by his side, into the small building that house the pier itself.

Once inside, Molly noticed how the usually light row of over-hanging lights were dimmed, giving the large room an eerie atmosphere. "Sherlock, I don't think this is going to end well."

Sherlock peered over in her direction and cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Molly opened her mouth to reply, but instead of a responds all she found herself doing was halting in her tracks and gasping at the sight she saw at the end of the dock. She raised her hand and pointed in hopes Sherlock would follow her eyesight, which she determined was what he did when she heard a small inhale of air coming from his direction.

At the very end of the dock there was a rather thick chain coming down from the center of the ceiling and tangled in that chain was Elizabeth's battered and bruised body. Her bare feet were completely bruised and lightly touching the cold dock beneath her. One of her arms were left free, but it was clearly broken. The only other visible part of her was her once pale white that was now colored in with bruises and dried blood, even her eyes were bloodshot; and her once smooth hair wan knotted and lifeless. The final touch was the white bandana that was stained with her blood that was being used to keep her from speaking.

Sherlock felt himself getting angry as he looked at his little sister hanging at the end of the dock with what seemed like no hope left. He couldn't help himself when he took off for the main room in the small building they were in. Unfortunately, when he reached the end of the long hallway he was running down, bars dropped from the ceiling, preventing him from continuing further. Sherlock pounded on the bars as hard as he could when he saw Elizabeth staring at him and smiling weakly. He dropped his head just at a maniacal cackle roared throughout the closed-off pier.

"Do you really think you can save any of them?" A raspy voice said over the intercom.

Sherlock picked up his head at the sound. "My job is to make sure every person lives; including Miss Elizabeth!" He looked up towards the ceiling and spotted the intercom in the corner of where Elizabeth was. "Now stop being a coward and show yourself!"

One of the doors next to Elizabeth opened and short, elderly looking man wearing a red jumper and brow trousers waked in. "You can't save them you know." He looked over at Elizabeth and smiled devilishly. "That is, of course, you want to keep this one alive."

Sherlock had felt Molly's hand on his back and he knew exactly what to do. 'Calm down, Sherlock, think.' He took a deep breath and looked at the man who was now walking towards him. 'Janitor…age 65…divorced….no children….diseased.' "Obviously, sir, there is something you want. Care to explain?"

"What if I don't want to?"

"In that case," Sherlock reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulled out a small handgun, and pointed it at the kidnapper. "Tell me or I'll shoot."

"Now, now; Mr. Holmes." The man reached for the back pocket of his trousers and pulled a slightly larger handgun on Elizabeth. "We don't want to do anything rash now would we?"

"What do you want?" Molly chimed in and did her best to sound strong.

"What I want, my dear, is my free housing back." The man turned his attention towards Elizabeth and rage built in his voice. "But they took it to house brats like this one, and I want it back!"

"A flat isn't worth killing for!" Molly yelled at the man.

The man lowered his weapon and smiled his devilish smile once more. "It is for a dying man." He walked over to Elizabeth and untied the blood stained bandana from her head. "Say your last words while I still let you."

Elizabeth gulped loudly and locked eyes with Sherlock. "Go to the last page of my scrapbook," She said with tears in her eyes. "I know you have it; it'll tell you who I am."

Sherlock could only stare helplessly as he watched the murderer step back so that the bullet would pierce through Elizabeth's head. "Lizzy, I…"

"Enough sentiment!" The man yelled as he put his finger on the trigger. "It's time to die." He shot, and the minute the bullet impacted the lights went out, a scream rang out, and glass shattered.

A few seconds later a splash was heard not a moment before the emergency power kicked in and the two witnesses could see the damage that had occurred in the past hour. The entire wall the Elizabeth was once dangling in front of was covered in gun powder and under the burn chains were shattered pieces of glass along with drops of fresh blood. The only thing missing from the sight was the murderer and Elizabeth's body, but the far door was open.

"He got away." Sherlock blankly stated as he stared at the scene. "And he took the body with him."

"I'm so sorry Sherlock." Molly said trying to hide the emotion in her voice. "I'll call Lestrad, you just relax." She then walked back up the ramp, leaving Sherlock alone to his thought.

"Prove you're a Holmes, don't be dead." Sherlock spoke out loud to the open air hoping no one would hear him; he got his wish, no one did


	11. Epilogue

Dear Sherlock,

You haven't seemed the same since the incident and I don't know if there's anything I can do for you that will make this all better. I've seen you staring out your sitting room window, I've heard you play such depressing songs, and I'm watching you send friends away. Isolation isn't the answer here, you need your friends; you need me.

The saddest day so far was when you invited your parents and Mycroft over. Seeing the look on their faces when you told them, especially your poor mother. I felt so bad when I saw her face. It must be so hard to give up a child just to find out she's dead 20 short years later. Breaks my heart…

One day I'll see you again, I promise I will; but you have to promise me something in return. Go live your life, so I can go back to living mine.

Forever yours,

The girl that listened

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this is my best piece of work, but don't worry; they get better


End file.
